The Cruelty of the Stars
by Shaye Vespertine
Summary: After Clark runs away from Smallville Jonathan can't believe his family is lost, and Kalel's father speaks to him about recent events.Clark is now very much under the Ring's power, and a strange demon inhabits him...what will he choose to do?ON HOLD
1. After the Storm there is no calm

Drip, the tear gets wider...thump, the heart flutters...clink, a small metallic sound echoes...swish, a breeze sweeps past...

_Can you hear him?_

Does he cry?

_CAN YOU HEAR HIM?_

Is he in pain? Is he dying? Oh, god why does he cry? Why is he so afraid? Drip, the tear gets wider...thump, the heart flutters...clink, a small metallic sound echoes...swish, a breeze sweeps past...

Please, please not my baby. Please leave him alone; don't hurt him!

_Your baby? He is not your baby though, is he? _

Please stop this; he hasn't done anything to you.

_Poor, poor Jonathan. It is too late to cry now; it was always too late. You do not understand the boy's destiny, and without understanding, there can never be acceptance. You of all people should know this._

I do. I do understand, I have always understood.

_But it didn't stop you from shouting at him, did it? It didn't stop you to feel hatred and becomeaggressive, like you do to people who threaten your family._

No, no I don't hate him, I could never hate him-

_But he destroyed his own brother didn't he? And he almost killed your wife; his mother. _

Drip, the tear gets wider...thump, the heart flutters...splash, his tears are stained with black... swish, his breath shudders... Then dies.

NO! No! You leave him alone! You leave my baby alone!

_Relax, Jonathan. You have a wife to take care of now. And the debts; and you have to deal with the fact that it was in fact you who drove Clark away from Smallville, you and your hatred and his self- loathing. His friends Pete and Chloe will desert him. The girl of his dreams refused to run away with him. He caused his unborn brother's miscarriage, and will shortly lose himself a certain newly wed groom. And of course, he has already lost himself._

No, he's still there. He's my son, and he's strong.

_Can you hear him?_

No.

_CAN YOU HEAR HIM?_

No. God why is he so quiet? Why does he not breathe?

_Poor, poor Jonathan. _

_Puny human; that's all you all are. And yet they have maintained my boy alive for the past fifteen years or so. For that I am grateful to you, but no more. It is time, Kal-el. Will you come to me? Will you obey your father and fulfil your destiny? There, there. It's okay, daddy's here. Daddy's got you now. My son. My Kal-el._

_

* * *

_

Jonathan woke up in a panic, a startled gasp leaving his mouth like a homing bird. He looked at Martha, lying in the hospital bed, sleeping so peacefully, looking like his usual angel. Hospital bed? What was going on?

He went into the toilet next to the bed and splashed some cold water on his face. Looking up into the small mirror and saw himself, red weary eyes, a grim mouth and a small vein could be seen standing out at his temple. He went back to his chair next to the bed, leaned back, and closing his eyes, sighed. He spent a few seconds like that, his mind way too occupied to do anything else, then he opened his eyes and sat forward. Jonathan picked up his wife's hand, and after a few seconds, he spoke to her, softly and reassuringly, "Don't worry Martha, everything is going to be all right. It will all sort itself out, you'll see." He smiled, tears running down his face and he didn't even know their cause.

With a rough sweep of his callused hands, Jonathan wiped away the tears from his face, then went out into the lobby to get himself some coffee. He stood there, next to the machine, the cup of warm brown liquid fusing some of its heat into his hands, and sipping quietly, he looked towards the doors of the hospitals' entrance. If only he could figure out why his heart didn't feel whole anymore. If only he could figure out why it hadn't made a noise when it first cracked.

AN:/ First of all, the sentences in blah blah blah are Clark's supposed real father's words, to Jonathan Kent. This fiction opens up after the scene where Clark runs away from Smallville on a black motorbike, after the events succeeding the ship's destroyed, and Jonathan cannot fathom that his family has broken up and I tried to portray his state of mind as confused and lost. Please r&r.

Lady Zee.


	2. Death of a Family

You know how they say that when people die they go to heaven? How do we know that? How do we know they're not truly gone and their souls are dispersed somewhere, like in a vacuum or a limbo? They're in peace now; they're happy, they don't suffer anymore. But the people who loved them are left behind to feel the hole left by them, the searing pain that something, somewhere went wrong, they could never see them again. Death is just another step of our long, complicated lives, but how do we know it isn't the final one we take? We don't see them ever again after all; how do we know their lives weren't wasted away, chasing some idiot alien fantasy – No, that wound is too deep. My own son was an alien from Krypton. He was the one thing that kept our family together; Martha and I could not have children, so when we found Clark after the meteor shower, we saw it as a blessing. Little rascal wouldn't stop running round the house when we first brought him in.  
  
After his adoption files came through, and he was a Kent to everyone else, Clark became the town's shining beacon. When the spaceship made it so that Martha became pregnant, I thought our family could not be happier. And of course I was right; for Clark destroyed the spaceship, and destroyed us as we drove towards the house. I blamed it, oh yes it is true. And I wish I'd never done it; even as I screamed at him outside that hospital door, nonsense about how he didn't have the right to make such a choice and act it through by himself, how his choice affected others too, and he had to stop doing it. I drove him out of that door myself. Martha miscarried, and I drove Clark out the front door. I haven't told her yet, for she is still not well enough to endure any more stress and perhaps it is that I cannot bring myself to believe how quickly our family shattered.  
  
Wife lying in a hospital bed after a serious life-threatening miscarriage, a big hole burnt in the ground right on front of the house, the pick-up destroyed, I am myself a wreck and as for Clark...he will forgive me one day, I know he will. For that is Clark's nature. But he will remember; and so will I. I don't think it will go away this time. If only he hadn't acted so rashly. If only we had trusted him enough not to drive back to the farm, maybe we wouldn't have been affected by it so badly. If only everyone would just leave us be. He is OUR son, nobody had the right to take him away, or threaten the world he has always know to be his home. My mind is exploding with the sheer impossibility of it all, I cannot get it round to think as far as to figure a way out of this. Martha still sleeps but I can't help but feel relieved for that; had she known what I had done, she wouldn't be sympathetic, she would just drive the fact that I pushed Clark away even deeper, and I don't need that.  
  
********  
  
They took him away he's not here anymore. Clark? Where's my baby? And I don't really need an answer to that question, do I? I haven't seen him since before the wedding ceremony, and Jonathan has that certain look in his eyes that tells me that Clark isn't home either. They took him away, my baby boy isn't at home where he belongs. LEAVE US ALONE! YOU LEAVE US ALONE!  
  
You had no right. You hear me? You had NO right!! You abandoned him when he was a baby, and we found him and took care of him; we love him, he's our son. He's not yours anymore: you forfeited that right to look at him in the morning and marvel secretly at how perfect every little thing he does is. You left him to wander alone and unattended in the Galaxy; God only knows to end up where. You call yourself a parent? Why are you after him after all this time? What drove you to pursue and end all his dreams right when he – we were the happiest family on the face of this planet? You cannot possibly know what it is like to live with his secret day after day, this terrible weight dragging around his life so much that he cannot so much as bring himself to play sports games with his classmates?  
  
Even I felt it stifling and unbearable to carry at times; other boys would play on the swings and the slides in the park, whilst Clark just sat next to me, holding my hand, his sad little eyes looking so sad and sorrowful at the laughing piers of his age, having fun, whilst he remained there, being laughed at and called names. But my boy was brave, oh yes he was; much more than everyone at his age had any right to be. He would just wade into the danger and rescue whoever it was that needed rescuing; he always did. Any other wouldn't have gotten involved at all, but that was Clark, always so noble, so brave, so caring.  
  
WHY must you persist in tormenting him? Isn't it enough that he's suffered so much and worked so hard towards being together with the girl of his dreams, since he was five?! YOU LEAVE HIM ALONE, YOU HEAR ME? LEAVE MY BABY ALONE. My darling, darling baby.  
  
I became so entranced every time I looked at him or heard about his achievements; his skin looked so healthy, so normal, so impossibly * beautiful *. I remember the first time he bled, oh God how I remember. He'd never had so much as a little cut ever in his whole tiny life. He was close to his fifth birthday playing out in the barn whilst Jonathan fixed the old tractor and I was working on the plans I had for the upstairs to the barn; I was going to make it into his personal hide-out every time things got too oppressive. He liked to gaze up at the sky so much, I was sure that when he was old enough, he would receive a telescope for his birthday, when he would be a big boy.  
  
There were little green stones scattered here and there, and I paused and looked at them thoughtfully; they'd never been there before. How did they get there? A little cry awoke me from my reverie and I gazed down, only to have my stomach hurl my breakfast upwards with such speed, I felt too dominated by the compulsive, driving need to just whip my head round and let it all out.  
  
Clark had cut his finger with an old, rusty farm nail, which meant that it had to be cleaned fast and quickly, then get a shot for it. The cut wasn't very big, nor was it deep, but it was my son's blood, and it made me sick to see it. The thought of his lovely skin being pricked and slashed made my head spin. Jonathan was already cleaning the wound saying something but I stood there, still unable to comprehend that it was over and Clark would be fine.  
  
Such fuss over the teensiest pin-prick, Martha, you're getting too soft. And yet that pin-prick remains with me to this day; I remember the sheer terror of seeing my baby hurt, ad hated myself for not checking it was safe for him to play out there; I suppose the fact that he never fell ill drove me blind to the possibility that he might one day get hurt. I glared at that unworthy piece of rusty metal; how dared it hurt my baby? You bad! You did a bad thing! Bad farm nail, bad farm nail!  
  
Then I turned to stare back at Clark and Jonathan, and I actually screamed. I screamed so bad my throat felt like burning liquid had just been forced down it. Clark was on the floor, his small little body thrashing about, his eyes rolling back into his head, breath shuddering out with a wheeze that sounded like it was coming from a pneumonia-affected boy. A green something was running over his body, tracing every vein and artery in him, searing my little boy with what must have been unbearable pain at that age. God the thought still makes me whimper with the sheer torture of it all. And now he's been hurt again, and this time I cannot help at all.  
  
I remember that it was Jonathan who had seen him first, we were turned upside down in he pick-up, after the meteors striked. When he turned around to me, something changed forever in his gaze, in our lives, in the universe. A tiny pair of little feet was poking out of the window, and then I saw myself looking up into the most beautiful thing I had ever laid my unworthy eyes on: this perfect little boy's face, the most breath-sucking blue eyes looking inside the van, and then, would you believe it – he smiled. Oh God that smile would have brought me back from the dead, so dazzling it was.  
  
I never liked sobbing, screaming little drama queens, but this time it's me that cries, it's me that feels wave of pain after wave of pain wreaking my soul, shaking the foundations our happiness was so lovingly built on. Already its balance is precarious, the death of our family suddenly hitting me so transparently that all the breath is knocked out of me.  
  
But don't you worry, my darling, we'll build it back. We'll find it again, and we'll get over this eventually. You and your father will sort out your differences and I will be next to both of you, smiling and encouraging this wonderful feeling that is both so dazzling and devastating in its power. I think they call it love. Oh yes, my darling, my pride, my shining boy, I'll rescue you this time. I'll help you climb out and take you back home.  
  
Listen to me my baby, we need you now; we always will. The death of a family is never rendered so final, so clear until its children are forever destroyed or estranged from it. Don't you cry, honey. Your mummy's here, I'm holding you, please stop sobbing oh please, stop this pain tonight and come home with me, so your father can stop pretending. My beautiful little men; both so alike and yet so different. Both too stubborn for their own good, both value their damn pride too much.  
  
But you'll stop this, won't you Clark? You'll make it right, like you did when you poked your little head under the upside-down widow and into our lives, forever marking us so painfully, so dearly with your shining smile that it isn't possible to live without you. Think of Lana, and Pete and Chloe. Think of Lex and how he didn't even get his witness at his wedding day; he was so disappointed that you failed to show up. Think of your father, who is just too stubborn, his pride too strong to let out that he is lost without you. Think of ME, your silly mummy needs you here to hold her hand, dear. But you'll come back, I know you will; after all, what's a family without a child in it.  
  
Come to mama, darling baby; she needs you so much. You won't leave her alone to drift through life like a leaf being strung by a tornado. She loves you very much, and she wants you back; you're too precious for her to be without you, you see. It's so cosy in here, in the dark, in the warm alcove where the world can't disturb us. You're so pale, my darling. There, there; let me hold you while you cry. Everything is going be all right. Mama loves you so much, oh yes, oh yes.  
  
A.N./ And here is chapter two to The Cruelty of the Stars; please R&R and tell me what you think. A big huge 'thank-you' to who reviewed her thoughts on it.  
  
Lady Zee 


	3. At a Loss for Words

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot or purpose of this ficlet; the characters are not mine, nor is the main episode plot. This insightful fiction follows the events after Clark destroys the spaceship, seen through friends and family's eyes, and takes it through until he comes back home.  
  
Chapter three: At a Loss for Words  
  
What will I say? Here is the truth to Clark Kent's secrets revealed in The Torch, exclusive edition? Why does that sound so dirty? Why does it make me feel like I betrayed him?  
  
_Because you are betraying him, Chloe._

Ah yes, there it was. the voice that tormented me so, the one who made me see everything through an through, the one who made me change my mind often again and again, my personal judge and perpetrator. My mother.  
  
I know that. But if he'd been more honest with me, if he'd told me straight from the off that he and Lana were together, maybe this wouldn't have happened. I never asked he go out with me, or that he'd feel for me something a lot deeper than friendship, or that it had to be Lana love. I only wanted him to tell me the truth.  
  
_Right, you keep telling yourself that. Face it girl, you have no real excuse for doing what you are doing to Clark. _

_Don't you think of the Kents? What would they say? After all they did for you?  
_  
Oh yes, of course, here it comes.

Bad Chloe. Wicked Chloe. Well I have got used to being a wicked girl; besides, this is journalism. I accepted it and so did Clark. He knew what he would be getting into, but he did it anyway. Well now he has to face the consequences.  
  
God, it sounded so...harsh, so evil. When had she become like that? When she saw Clark and Lana kiss at his barn? When she found out her feelings for him? Perhaps when she knew they would never get any close than friends. Or maybe she had always been like this, deep down, and now thanks to Clark's dishonesty, it was all surfacing, and bringing out the worst part of herself, something she didn't know she had.  
  
_Stop this when where and who game, Chloe. You're getting into unimaginable things. You can't know what might come out if you dig in Clark's life.  
_  
Exactly why I am doing this. I am a journalist, even if it is just for a small school paper, but journalism has no boundaries, and I will not create barriers or stop points now. It's too late for that. Far too late.  
  
_Yes, it is far too late_.

_But Clark might not forgive you this, Chloe. Did you think about what it would be like if he never forgave you, should he find out before it is finished?  
_  
It doesn't really matter whether he finds out before or after it is published. I am not changing my mind.

_And what then? You find out all the secrets you want, slap them on a page and publish it for all to see. Will you be happy when you do that? _

_Will it please you to watch him suffer for this low kick?  
Could you do it? Destroy what little trust there is left between you two, give Luthor what he_ _wants?  
_  
Yes, Luthor; he'd be pleased I found out everything about Shining Mystery. And then I would get a place in the Daily Planet.  
  
_But what if he wont? What if he cheats and plays you like everybody else and something happened to Clark? _

_Could you stand for it, knowing it was you who caused his pain? And what of Martha Kent? In her condition, it will be dangerous to expose her son to such harm. All this for a kiss?  
  
_Hey! Just stop it! Stop it right now!  
  
_You can't bear it, can you? Somewhere buried in that hard crust is the Chloe we all know and loved.  
_  
And the one who got lied to and rejected. She'll stay right where she is. As for Martha...I'm at a loss for words. But I don't have a choice anymore.  
  
_And when Luthor takes him? He will have him prodded and watched at all times, Clark will cease to be safe, and it will be all your fault.  
_  
STOP! You're making it sound like Clark is – a freak of nature or something. Luthor won't do that, because there is nothing for him to find.  
  
_Then you refuse to take the job, and save your friendship with Clark?  
  
_No. Nothing will make me change my mind.  
  
_And what of Pete? Did you wonder what he'll do when he finds out?  
  
_Yes, I know what Pete will do to me. And I am sorry for it. I am sobbing now, but I am so sorry. I can't think straight; I can't see the way out anymore. Am I lost?  
  
_You lost yourself when you had that meeting with Lionel Luthor and agreed to take on the job. Pete doesn't know it yet, but if he did, he'd put a stop to all this.  
_  
_You should have listened to me, Chloe. Now you are lost, stuck between the you of yesterday and the you threatening to come out tomorrow. But today there is no Clark to save you, Chloe. This time, it's all you and yourself.  
_  
_You don't have a Wall of Weird to go home to. Because if you don't fight it, if you don't fight yourself, it will take you. Once it does, you will not escape from it.  
_  
It is inevitable. This losing battle won't last for long. I won't win this time.

I'm sorry Clark.  
  
I'm sorry for what I am about to do. Please find it in you one day to forgive me. Just give me another chance.

I sit at my desk now in The Torch studio at school. The bell rings, all the children rush out to go home, or shopping, or whatever else they will do. And I am alone. Pete is not standing there with a cup of coffee ready to be poured down my throat.  
  
There is no Clark smiling at me from his tall height, indulging in some weird occurrence in Smallville's affairs, and not sharing 'the look' with Pete. The computer screen glares its white impatience at me, the cursor blinking in manevolent haste to get me to type something. And for the first time in my life as a journalist, I am ...at a loss of words.


	4. Sanctuary of the Wounded: a Friend in Ne...

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the sub-plot in this story. This is an insightful fiction, following the events after Clark ran away from Smallville. The main plot from the episodes belongs to whoever filmed them...Reviews are appreciated.  
  
Chapter four, part I: Sanctuary of the Wounded: a Friend in Need  
  
"Please, Clark don't do this!"

"You cant' stop me Pete. Not this time."

"But this is not the way to solve things!"  
  
The wounded are the first thing on a doctor's mind as soon as he steps through that hospital entrance door, family and friends are shunned to the back of the mind. It doesn't matter that the wounded are men, women, children, or black or Asians; what counts is helping them heal.

The skin is the most fragile thing in a man's body: a simple little prick, and it breaks, letting through the blood inside ourselves.

I have lost count of the many times I saw his skin break from all the pressure.

He was wounded. I have been his doctor these past few months, ever since I found out. After all, who could he have gone to when he needed a friend? I let him down.  
  
I let myself down, by letting down his deepest expectations of being helped out of this atrocious situation. Doctors are supposed to heal you, to make it all better; not let you down. That is why so many people distrust them and their remedies. It is the fear being let down.

I always feared of letting someone down. My family, my pets, my teachers, and of course, my friends. I let my teachers down a lot, when I got a worse grade than expected and homework not done. I sometimes let my family down when they expected better things from me, or when I ended up in the police station, after I was caught shoplifting. My father was so angry, that I almost couldn't tell what that other look in his eyes was. I know now.  
  
It was disappointment.

I let him down.

"How could you do this? You needed ask, and I would have given it to you."

"I don't know why I did it."

"That's not good enough! It isn't an excuse. What the hell were you thinking of?"

"I wasn't – "

"Exactly. You never think of the consequences of your actions. Well, this time you've gone too far, Pete. You wait until your mother finds out."  
  
I did.

By God, I thought I was never going to get out being grounded or having to help clean that shop for three whole weeks. I never went near the word 'shoplifting' again. I couldn't look the manager in the face for a whole two weeks. And that's something a man cannot cope well with.  
  
But that's okay.

All I had to do was think of him, and the lengths he had to go to keep it secret, and it would remind me that even though I wasn't as good a person as he, I could be good for him. Every time he needed a shoulder to cry on, I always offered mine, right before Chloe did.

He'd never take them of course, but after I found out, I never expected him to again.

After all, a hero was always a hero. And heroes never cried.  
  
I had to keep it secret. You understand; when you're best friends with a creature of a different planet, it tends to make you more protective and cherish your friendship all the more. Those buffoons at Luthor's place. What do they know? He thought he could keep Clark safe. When had Alexander Luthor ever failed?  
  
But he failed this time; he wasn't there when he was probably needed the most. And so did I. After the trouble distanced itself away, so would the guilt that was attached strongly to it. I would always think upon it and feel better than last time, because I had them. Because I had him. It always went away when I was surrounded and safe in my friends' haven.  
  
But I never thought I could let Clark down.

Clark, who was always so strong and so good to everyone. Where was my damned protective instinct when he called upon it to help him?

Sub-consciously, but call he did.

I was so overwhelmed with the confusion of it all, I did not see.  
  
I was blind to all but Clark and his need of a friend. He'd never needed one so strongly before. And I let him down. If humans could bleed with each wave of guilt they ever felt in their lifetimes, our life spans would be considerably shorter. I feel as if I will drown with it.

And this time, I don't think it will go away. Wounded people have hospitals to go to, when they have a cut, or an infection, or need surgery.

But where do wounded heroes go to? Why isn't there a place to offer them a roof over their noble heads when they're wondering around the country in pain, and loss? I never thought I could let him down so badly.  
  
Perhaps it is mostly because I have always needed him, more than he needed me. With his astounding powers and his strong sense of responsibility and his ability to love, who wouldn't need him or want a piece of him? But Clark needed me today, and I could do nothing.

Why do we allow them to suffer so? Shouldn't we just lock them up, so that they can never come out, and keep on being as innocent and wonderful as they are? But what would heroes be like if they were innocent? Why don't I get an answer to all my questions?  
  
I don't think that locking them up would be such a good idea after all.

In this world where innocence is quickly claimed, it's so hard to stand up when you're so afraid. Aguilera sure as hell knows what she sings about.  
  
There is always a first time to everything, they say. But I never thought there would be a time when Clark was in pain, and I could not help him.

Where will he go? How will he feel, to be so great and so wounded and so alone?

And that ring. Goodness, the mention of the Ring makes my skin crawl. It will lead him to bad business, I know it will.  
  
Who's going to be there to protect him when other people hurt his feelings? For his super powers are a gift to this pained world. But he is weaker than normal men in ways that stab and scar a lot more.  
  
I should set up like a hostel house. Yes, hostel houses are good.

A house for the Wounded. A house for the Heroes.  
  
I'll speak to my old man about it as soon as I get home tonight. On the drive home, I go past the Kents' farm.  
  
OUCH!

What was that? It was something in my chest.

Damned bugs. I always told mum and dad I never liked farms. But the car has been locked up ever since I got out. So what was that pain, just above my heart?  
  
That twinge that made it skip a beat or two? And that it happened as I was going past the Kent property...pure coincidence.

I can already see this Sanctuary of mine. Hey, that's a great name. Sanctuary.

The Sanctuary for the Wounded and the Heroes. Welcome to the Sanctuary for the Wounded and the Heroes, Clark. Your room is the biggest one at the top floor.  
  
Just like his place in my heart.

I will always have special places for my family and Chloe. But Clark...I won't ever evict him out of the big space in my heart. Nuh uh, never ever.

You hear that, brother? You'll always have a special, big place in my heart. So you'll better get home soon Clark.

It's night, and Smallville needs you. Your parents and Chloe and Lana need you. Lana Clark, think of Lana. And me.

I will always need you Clark.  
  
But I promise you, that as soon as you get back, I will make it up to you. You'll get to enter the Sanctuary for the Wounded and the Heroes with me; you'll be the first to see it in its homey, comfortable glory.

I'll just get home now, and pray to whoever hears out there to bring you back home safe. Even if that happens to be that bastard biological father of yours. And in the mean time I'll make damn sure my friend in need will have someone to get comfort from.  
  
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And there is chapter four, part I. I hope you all enjoyed it, and I deeply apologize for the time it took me to upload three, but I was working on new stories, and what with my GCSE's and all, it has been a hectic period. Thank you all to my reviewers, I love you all. A Special thanks goes to Tom-Welling1390. Thank you Tom!! 

P.S for those of you who do not know what a GCSE is, it is an exam British students have to sit through at the end of YRs 10 and 11.


	5. Sanctuary of the Wounded: Best Time of o...

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the sub-plot of this fiction and I am not making money so don't sue.  
  
Chapter five: Sanctuary of the Wounded, part II Best Time of our Lives  
  
I know I can be a little stubborn sometimes. A little righteous and too proud. I just want to find a way to compromise, Cuz I believe that we can work things out...  
  
She liked this song, it described very well how she felt lately. Stubborn, righteous and if anyone had too much pride, it was herself.  
  
Gone, he is gone...  
  
Clark?  
  
That word echoed around her in a weird way, like in a vacuum, but she was in the Talon's backdoor, pulling herself together before she went working to the counter, and serve coffee and cappuccinos and sorts.  
  
Clark, where are you?  
  
Is he safe? Is he still roaming the country on that damned bike of his? Has he stopped acting weird yet?  
  
And...right on cue there it was: no answer.  
  
Would somebody just do me the favour of, like answering me just once?!  
  
Just stand straight, tap foot impatiently on the ground, and do the same with your hand.  
  
And – ain't life a bitch – NO ANSWER.  
  
Sighs.  
  
She sniffed, straightened her shoulders, made sure no tear streaks were visible, and made her way to the counter.  
  
One tall cappuccino with the granioles on top, coming right up. Two small decaf coffees, with just a dash of milk and one sugar, coming your way sir.  
  
Was this where she was meant to stand up on the tables, stomp her feet, jump on and down for good measure and scream her heart out to everyone that her guy left town and she refused to go with him?  
  
It seemed like today was the worst time in her life.  
  
And yet it wasn't, she realised.  
  
All those times when she had risked dying...and hadn't Clark saved her? She couldn't keep count after Tina buried her in that –  
  
She sighed.  
  
Lana, there's no point in torturing yourself in this way. He's gone and you went right in and socked it to him, playing righteous little mummy's girl.  
  
But Clark, I can't possibly go with you.  
  
Don't ask that of me, please.  
  
But ask he did.  
  
And the first time she could do something with him, for him, what did she do? She denied him.  
  
She refused to even think about the possibility that he might be hurt and just wanted to get away. And he had wanted her with him.  
  
Now that, my friends, is the saddest thing she ever had to do.  
  
Her hands shook as she served the clients queuing up to the till to get their Talon amounts, and her throat clogged with unshed tears.  
  
Just before she plumbed into the mirror, she thought she saw him standing at the door, a beautiful smile lighting up his handsome features, but of course that couldn't be.  
  
Holding the coffee server in one hand and just about to reach for a cup with the other, she turned towards the door again, and was more than startled to see a cute blue-eyed boy standing just in front of a sandbox, spade on shoulder, like a miner, smiling at her.  
  
Clark!  
  
But no – that was five year old Clark, it wasn't possible, she –  
  
She was standing right there, five years old again, a pink puffy little frock resting on her small form, bucket sitting at her side, a warm red liquid running slowly down her knee.  
  
Small sobs shook her frame, she wanted her parents, but they would not come to her, and she still did not understand what she had done wrong to upset them so much they left her with her auntie. When that mean looking bully had tripped her because she refused to give him her playing tools, she'd landed on her knees and her hands were scraped, and she didn't like it one bit.  
  
Just as the bully advanced upon young Lana to finish her off and grab her toys anyway, a someone stepped in front of her, shoulders tensed, feet apart; his voice didn't sound afraid, and she thought dazedly that he must be very brave to stand up to Jimmy Laster that way.  
  
"Leave her alone."  
  
Young Lana beamed very shortly. Her hero.  
  
"No. What are you going to do? Beat me up, or run to mama's side like you always do when someone tries to get you to play?"  
  
No reply, very steely glare.  
  
"What's the matter Kent? Too good to play with the other kids? Think you can take me on? Come on, then, let's see Kent get beaten by Jimmy."  
  
It was over pretty quickly; Jimmy advanced on Clark and went immediately for the head, as many children did.  
  
But – oh my – Clark did no stay rooted to the spot, completely petrified at the sight of Jimmy Laster raising his fists t beat him up.  
  
Oh no, that wasn't Cark.  
  
Just as Jimmy's ham sized fist was about to connect very painfully on Clark's face, he ducked and – would you believe it? Striked back at the whale with his own fist.  
  
Ooowwww! Right in the stomach.  
  
Where had he learnt to do it?  
  
Jimmy was winded after the unexpected, forceful punch, and for a moment he just clutched his large stomach, wailing in pain, and Clark stomped on his foot – hard.  
  
He never came to that park whenever Clark was around again.  
  
A sigh, a beautiful Clark smile, and offered hand, and that boy would forever be plastered on Lana's heart.  
  
The best time of her life.  
  
Such hardships over the years that passed, their friendship somewhat steady but distant, when she was with Whitney she didn't have much time to spend with Clark, but the secret attraction she had felt for him grew steadily, unmatched by Whitney's boyish charm, undisturbed by anyone else.  
  
When he rescued her all those times she was in grave danger...at first she thought it was Whitney, rescuing her, but after a while, her sub-conscious kicked in, and told her Clark Kent was her knight in shining armour.  
  
He'd always been that.  
  
Especially after she lost Whitney, and felt so alone and so vulnerable.  
  
She never felt those things with Clark; whether she was in his strong arms or simply in his company.  
  
That business with Chloe hurt them all so much.  
  
How could they betray their friend so?  
  
All those times he would laugh at something she said, all the times his smile lit up his face, the way the sunlight played with his black hair, his intent eyes focusing on her like they were alone all the time...he was so gorgeous and so loving, it should be made illegal, or distributed in teensy bits to all in America.  
  
But in a way, she liked it that did not happen: she liked having him in one bit, and all for herself.  
  
Together...that word sounded so sweet, so bitter, so hurtful, so amazing at times her breath would catch, and there just wouldn't be no way she'd get it back if she didn't stop thinking about it.  
  
The best time of our lives...would they ever get those moments where it was just the two of them and nothing but the stars, and – Wait...no, no stars.  
  
She found she held no fascination over them anymore. She didn't understand why Clark seemed so obsessed with them, but she didn't care.  
  
Everyone would say look, look! A falling star! You make a silent wish every time you see one. Make one! Go on, Lana make a wish!  
  
Except that they never came true, and if they didn't, the exact opposite would happen, in a very negative, hurtful way, so she'd stopped doing that long ago.  
  
Like that time when she wished she'd didn't have an obligation to Whitney, Clark would be her guy, and her parents would be still alive.  
  
Yep, no stars ever again.  
  
She couldn't stand another one of their cruelties so soon.  
  
But hadn't they already provided her with that? Hadn't Clark run away from Smallville and changed from good guy to bad down-town boy?  
  
No, she'd had to put up with their cruelty so much, it would last her a lifetime.  
  
But no more of that.  
  
She had angry customers to attend to, and here she was, crying over Clark, and how the stars were cruel and how she wanted him back home, with her.  
  
Well, if he ever came back, she'd let him know that she wasn't angry with him, and that if she wanted to, she'd give them a chance to have the best time of their lives again. 


	6. Sanctuary of the Wounded: The Road to He...

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the sub-plot in this fiction, and I am not making profit out of it either, so don't sue.

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Chapter six: Sanctuary of the Wounded, part III: The Road to Hell  
  
Cold, it was very cold on the road and at that speed, but he paid it no attention. Soon it would be very hot, as soon as he reached his destination. The Road to Hell...it was his first and last stop. The being inside him recoiled in horror and shock over the last events, all so painfully etched and carved out of his memory.  
  
He ruthlessly squashed him back down, nothing would make him turn back now.  
  
He'd rather lose himself in excruciating torture from night to day than see them hurt, crying and in pain, their eyes looking down upon him, their faces so clearly showing disappointment.  
  
The demon inhabiting his body rose back into the seat at that thought, lips twisting in fury and jaws locking together in an attempt to quench his anger and his hatred and keep focusing on the road stretching out ahead of him. They had no right, he thought.  
  
Who were they to judge him so cruelly, so completely that he couldn't even breathe with the suddenness of it all.  
  
"Well you should know by now that your decisions can hurt someone, and you had no right to make that choice in the first place! Just go home, I have to think about your mother right now."  
  
So, he didn't have the right to make any choices regarding his future anymore, had he?  
  
They'd see, oh how he'd make them see.  
  
First Jor-el, suddenly springing out of nowhere saying "hey I'm your daddy and I have suddenly decided to have a part in your life – actually make that control it – and you'll bring misery to everyone you know and love!"  
  
A growl found its way past his tightly clenched lips, and this time he let it fly out, free as a bird.  
  
It seemed that he had been very unfortunate in family ties. He meant nothing to them, nothing but a tool to control and a puppet they might let out to play hero for them if he behaved.  
  
He hated them, he hated them all, but the last thing he would do was make them see how wrong they were if they thought they knew him, make them see how strong and independent he could be without them, how better a person he would be without those hypocrites making decisions and choosing what they wanted for his life.  
  
And his friends too.  
  
God forbid he should forget them. The whole lot of them thought they were so much better than him, everything was always so right and just, they had to go and tell him that what he was doing was wrong and it wasn't the right way to approach the situation.  
  
Bastards, he thought.  
  
They didn't know, they had no inkling of what it was like being him day after day.  
  
Useless and doing the wrong thing, am I?  
  
And who was the one that got them out of sticky situations all the time, who was the one that had to work his ass off to slave out in the fields of a puny stack of mouldy wood those people called a farm?  
  
Who had to mask his every reaction and movement so that no one ever discovered the real 'man' hiding just behind the mask of country boy?  
  
Who had to restrain himself from pursuing his dreams when they would cause damage and hurt so many people he felt close to?  
  
His lips twisted in annoyance when he felt a twinge inside him, his mind momentarily oozing a yellow substance in pain.  
  
The pathetic boy inside just would not let him be.  
  
How dare you insult my life and my family?  
  
He sneered in contempt, before adjusting his grip on the seat, fingers flexing slowly and deliberately on the motorbike's handles, putting on speed and more road behind him.  
  
Shut up, Clark.  
  
No, I will not sit by and watch you destroy my existence. You will not do a single thing against them , nor speak about them. EVER. I won't let you hurt them. I won't let you!  
  
A short sound exploded from his throat, eyes eerily sparkling red, before settling back to malicious dark blue.  
  
HA!

And just what do you plan to do to stop me? Don't forget I'm wearing the ring. It makes me more powerful, and trust me Clark, it feels good to be back in control.  
  
Damn you! I've worn the ring before, and fought its intoxicating invitations. I won, and I'll do it again.  
  
Go right ahead, by all means. I ain't gonna stop ya.  
  
And, oh by the way, just in case you have failed to notice, last time you were not locked up with iron bars inside a self-built cage.

I see you don't answer to that; I guess you're finally realizing who's the one in control here, and you're wizening up in the process too. Good on ya, mate.  
  
Shut up!  
  
The demon smiled ferociously and his muscles relaxed, letting the hum of the motor beneath his hips work its magic through his back and thighs.  
  
I guess mummy's little boy doesn't like hearing the cold, hard truth, even if it is said for his own benefit.  
  
You stinking pellet of filth! I hate you!

He hates me, he hates me!

Oh boo-hoo.  
  
I can feel the tears just welling up and washing down my face.  
  
I'll beat the hell outta you as soon as I get out of this thing! You just watch me go!  
  
I'll do that, and in the meantime, I would sit back and enjoy the ride before the show, cuz in two days'time...you bleed, little boy.  
  
What are you talking about? You can't hurt me without damaging yourself.  
  
It's a risk I'm willing to take, and after I meet up with the right crowd, it'll be worth watching you bleed into yourself, slowly disappearing from the face of this planet...and in your wake, there will not be tears, you can be sure of that Clark.

But don't worry, I'll still be here when you'll be gone.  
  
And I'll still be in control.

I will be six feet under in hell before I let you do that.  
  
Oh you'll let me do it alright, and as for being six feet under in hell, well that can be arranged soon Clark.  
  
Your words can't hurt me and your threats are empty. We both know that as long as I'm wearing the ring I'm the strongest. And you can't fight it off me either, because to do that you will need to break free from your personal little cell.

And to do that, you will have to let all your family and friends go, and embrace the darkness.

But you're too puny and too blind to see that, so I think you should start getting used to it, because you're going to be in there for a while before you will be disposed of.  
  
I'll come out, and when I do, you're going to wish you had never even thought of letting the Ring enter your thoughts.  
  
Oooh, big words.  
  
I like it when you get all threatening and forceful-like.  
  
But I'm going to win, Clark, and the sooner you start seeing that, the better off you'll be.  
  
And when I do, everyone will see what it will be like to cross paths with Kal-El, the Chaos Harbinger.  
  
The Destroyer.  
  
NOOO!! I'll fight till the very death of me, but I won't let you destroy everything I have and love!

Love? Love, Clark? And where has your precious love taken you to, Clark?

Huh baby?

Tell me, I am most anxious to get this over with and get onto the plans I have for us, you see.  
  
Where was your stinking love when you needed to be saved, when you needed a shoulder to cry on? Who offered you a shelter when you were so badly hurt from their contempt and their petty feelings of superiority?  
  
I did.

You didn't lend me a refuge; you caged me!  
  
And for the greater good too. Look at yourself, Clark.  
  
You're weak and in pain right now. For once, just let yourself go; I'll take care of you. I'll look out for us, my precious.

You always fight so hard, that sometimes you just lose the reason why you were fighting in the first place. Just embrace it Clark, and let me in; let me love you like no one in this wretched world can.  
  
No, no...you'll destroy everything.  
  
Shhh, shhh, my darling. Everything I'm going to do will be for our future together. Just let me in, and I promise you, I'll stop this pain tonight.

The demon found its way along the road to their connection, and started travelling along it, slowly and feeling Clark's soul beneath him, reached out and caressed like one would do to one's lover.  
  
A moan of pleasure found its way past his lips, and he tasted the essence, gulping it down, licking it, kissing it, slowly loving it, until Clark let his barriers down and come inside of him.  
  
He stroked, caressed and felt the essence in front of him, slowly seeking the pinpoint of release and weakness, ready to satisfy his desire. When he found it, the demon licked it and slowly, ever so slowly, he inserted his hand in it, a glowing red light slowly forming in the palm of his hand.  
  
Clark gasped in pain and then a sickly sweet pleasure engulfed his soul, radiating out from the edges of his consciousness towards his centre. Is this what being penetrated felt like?  
  
He didn't know.  
  
The demon inside him got closer and rubbed himself against Clark's soul, panting and moaning under his breath, his release coming very close.  
  
God, Clark you taste so good...and you feel like the most wonderful thing I have ever met. We'll be such a good match, baby.  
  
And I'll take better care of you, and protect you more than they ever did.  
  
His breath was harsh now, and he jerked himself closer to Clark's soul, his rubbing picking up the pace, while his hand moved up and down in Clark's entrance, waiting until the barrier was down and he could insert himself inside.  
  
Clark was breathing heavily now, the demon inside him was rubbing his essence so furiously and so passionately, his words were coming closer to him more than he wanted to acknowledge, and for a brief moment he wondered what it would be like if he let the demon inside his core, where there would be no going back.  
  
It was Clark's brief distraction the demon had been waiting for: he jammed his hand up further, and let the light spread at the entrance, forcing it and enticing it to keep its gates open.  
  
Oh yes, baby, you're finally mine, I've wanted you bad for so long.  
  
The demon mounted on Clark's soul essence, and with a jerk of his own being, entered him.  
  
For a split second the demon stopped in his tracks, the most wonderful feeling engulfing him, then rocked back and forth, moaning and breathing harshly, a black smoke-like set of tentacles winding themselves into Clark's soul, spreading and contaminating everything they touched.  
  
Oh my...oh yeah...yes, yes like that...you feel so good baby, so good...come with me now...let me show you what it's like when you lose control...  
  
The demon's thrusts into the soul beneath him were picking up in their pace, becoming almost violent, each time they made contact, more of the black smoke would leave the demon and enter Clark's soul, twisting the memories, corrupting the core, blackening everything until it changed from a blinding white to a void of black.

Clark gasped, the breath was knocked out of him, then screamed in pain at the sudden invasion, and everything blacked out.  
  
The demon was so close to completing his task, so close, and the pleasure was slowly coursing in deep waves through his essence, shuddering so much, he thought he'd lose his 'mind' with it.  
  
When he felt Clark's essence tense and saw that everything was black, he felt his release spurt inside and gave a great shout of pleasure and fulfilment, his thrusts finally ceasing, the black smoke now invading the once white soul beneath him, and he jacked out, and back into his body, feeling complete and at total ease.  
  
It was done.  
  
Clark was his now.  
  
He was in control, and here was no way anyone was going to bring him out of it.  
  
Taking Clark's essence was like taking a female's body...only the pleasure he felt was better in that he had Clark now safely tucked away in his own mind and memories, so tightly bound that it would take more than a miracle to get out.  
  
He breathed in the fresh air surrounding him, and it almost smelled better than it did before.  
  
A feral grin broke out on the boy's lips, eyes once again gleaming with a red light before they became completely black.  
  
Soon he would reach his destination, and then he was going to start playing for good.  
  
The bike turned at a sign on the road, slowly gaining a break-neck speed, and dissolved into the dark of the dusk.

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And there is chapter six in the Cruelty of the Stars. A huge thank you to all those who reviewed, you people are the greatest comfort needed ... it's you who keep the story going, and a writer could not be more glad and proud of her work, even if it is small.  
  
You will have noticed of course that I used at times both the first and third singular person in this chapter, a.k.a I / he, and that is because the demon and Clark are two different beings, and the confusion of Clark's thoughts and the paradox of the events seemed to obtain a better result with this confusing bond.  
  
Thanks again to all my reviewers, I hope you will have enjoyed this chapter.  
  
P.S. before you start flame-throwing, this was not a very slashy chapter, and NO, the demon did not rape Clark's body, more like his soul, slowly corrupting it and taking over him, so that he would be more of a prisoner now than he had ever been before to the Ring. And I think I have said enough, and in true Merovingian fashion, I will say adieu and goodbye.  
  
Until next time,  
  
Lady Zee


End file.
